“Dan,” she said. “You’re of no use to her right now. Your reflexes are slow. Your senses dulled.” She shrugged, her tone no-nonsense and not the least bit soft. “You couldn’t protect her from a fly. You’re dead on your fucking feet. You need to sleep.”
Pissed off, I straightened, shoved down the fatigue. “I’m fine.”
“Definitely not fine,” she said. “Which is why I’m advising you to go the fuck to sleep so that when she wakes up, you’re ready to be there for her.”
“More orders,” I muttered.
Laila rolled her eyes. “Look, we both know the only reason you’re not running your own team is because of Ava. You’ve been in love with her for years, and you decided to stay on my team because it’s the only way you can be close to her.”
“I—”
She sighed, pushed off the wall. “Look. I’ve been there,” she reminded me. “On both sides—too fucking scared to go after the person I wanted and spending every waking moment longing for the single individual who I thought might fit me perfectly.”
“Laila—”
Laila gripped my arms, shook me lightly. “She’s strong. You know that.” A sigh. “But sometimes those that seem the strongest on the outside are the ones who need the most care on the inside.”
“You know, I would do that for her in an instant,” I said. “She’s—”
“Your everything,” Laila finished for me when I faltered. “I get that. Like I said, I’ve been there.” She stepped back, crossed her arms. “But D, I honestly don’t know if she’s ready for you or a relationship or to let anyone in. She’s been so hurt and closed down for a very long time. I’ve known her for nine years, and while I’ve seen glimmers of the woman she is beneath those shields, and I consider her a close friend, and I would never hesitate to have her at my back on a mission . . .” She sighed. “I’m . . . just not sure if she’s ready to let another person near her heart.”
“She is ready to let someone in,” I protested. “We—”
Laila shook her head. “You can’t know that.”
In all honesty, I wanted to argue, to tell her about the connection, the week in Georgia, the conversations in the cell. I wanted to tell her about the look in Ava’s eyes outside the compound, the way she’d pushed me to leave her, and the relief in them when I hadn’t. I wanted to tell Laila about the pain on Ava’s face after she’d taken the shot that killed her father and how she’d let me hold her hand in the dark cell, allowing me in past those walls, just the smallest bit.
I wanted to tell Laila about Ava’s determination.
To not let her father break her. To stay strong even though the odds were against us. To make whatever sacrifices were needed in order to get me out.
Of course, I’d rather Ava be that determined to get herself out, but I was just as stubborn, could go toe-to-toe with her when it came to her safety. I’d make any necessary sacrifices to help her in any way.
Because we were more than teammates.
She’d let me in, and I wasn’t going to allow her to wall me back out.
That was what made me certain that the bond we’d formed was permanent.
I was in. Because she’d let me in.
And I wasn’t going backward.
“I know it,” I said. “I know we’ve crossed the first hurdle. She cracked open the door, and I’m in.”
There was doubt written across her face. “Dan,” Laila said on a sigh. “I don’t know that you can honestly get into someone who’s done everything to keep everyone out.” Her lips pressed flat. “If she doesn’t want someone in, it doesn’t matter how persistent or stubborn you are, you aren’t getting in. She’ll rebuild those walls, and they’ll be a hundred times stronger.”
“It’s not like that.”
A nod. An expression that told me Laila was unsure, even in the face of my determination and stubbornness. “Sleep, Plantain. Everything else will hold till you’ve had shut-eye.”
More arguments on the tip of my tongue.
More arguments I knew wouldn’t change Laila’s mind, nor what would happen between me and Ava.
More arguments I swallowed, pushed down, ignored for the moment.
Because Laila was right.
Ava might have let me in, might have allowed me to see a part of her that the rest of the world wasn’t privy to, but it wasn’t like she wasn’t going to keep the walls down, the castle gate flung wide. She would retreat.
I just needed to make sure she didn’t retreat from me.
Which meant I needed to be conscious and well-rested if I had a hope in hell of winning the battle that lay ahead.
Twenty-Four
Northeast England
KTS Headquarters
19:47hrs local time
Ava
The first thing I was aware of was the noise.
A steady beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. The woosh of a fan. Quiet footsteps as water turned off then back on.
“You should go sleep again,” came a soft female voice. I swam through the fog, tried to place it. Everything was soft and fuzzy and heavy and slow.
“Not yet.”
“Dan.”
“I’ll rest soon,” he said. “I promise.”
Dan.
Dan.
The memories poured back into my brain, as quickly as the bullets had flown in that compound, as quickly as our tide had turned at the hotel—
The shipment.
Kids. Women. Men.
“I’m worried about you,” Olive—yes, the fog had cleared enough that I recognized Olive’s voice. “You’re hardly eating or sleeping. You need to rest soon, or I’ll pull rank.”
“A few more hours then I’ll rest.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“Roger, Dr. Evil.”
A sigh. “Shut it, you.” Footsteps moving away. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
The door opened and closed with a soft click.
Warm fingers covered mine. “I know you’re awake.”
My eyes flew open.
I was in a clinic, and though the initial glance didn’t tell me where in the world I was, it was enough for me to grasp that we were in one of KTS’s buildings.
“Headquarters,” Dan said, and my gaze flicked to his. “It was touch and go there for a bit, so Olive flew you back here.”
“That’s why I feel like I got hit by a truck?”
“A gunshot, a broken ankle, and a knife wound will do that to a girl.” His fingers convulsed lightly in mine. “You in a lot of pain? Need me to go get Olive?”
“No,” I said. “No more pain medicine. I need my head to be clear.”
Already, tendrils of pain were threatening to pull me back under, but I needed to know. “Ryker and Laila? Are they okay?”
“The team is fine. No one was injured aside from you.”
“Your head,” I said, trying to lift my free arm to point at the fading purples and yellows on his temple and cheek. “Your ribs.”
“Only a mild concussion and bruises.”